Sight Within
by bree1387
Summary: After the events of Misbegotten, John isn't coping well. Bruce fears he is heading for a breakdown, but John refuses help. Can Bruce help him in time? Angst. Strong friendship. Complete
1. Chapter 1

Rating: T

Spoilers: Big ones for Misbegotten. If you haven't seen that, this won't make much sense.

Warnings: Mentions of implied rape. Nothing more explicit than what was portrayed on the show. Minor language.

Summary: After the events of Misbegotten, John isn't coping well. Bruce fears he is heading for a breakdown, but John refuses his help. Can Bruce help him in time? Angst. Strong friendship.

Feedback: Yes, please! Constructive comments welcome, flames will be ignored (or laughed at).

Author's Note: This episode begged for a story. So much happened to John, and I felt the episode didn't provide enough closure. This story is mainly emotional angst, with a touch of h/c. Enjoy!

**Sight Within Part 1**

by Megan

Bruce shot his friend a worried look as he drove Johnny home from the Sheriff's station. He had spent the past four hours with his friend while he gave a statement to Walt about the days events, and discussed what would happen to the three women who had kidnapped him. It was now well past midnight, and Johnny hadn't said two words since getting into the car.

"You wanna talk?" he quietly asked, sparing another glance in his friend's direction.

"Not really," came the equally quiet response.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Bruce tried to focus on driving, but found his mind wandering. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like to foresee a gruesome murder, know you're going to be there when it happens, most likely become a victim, and not be able to do anything about it because you're taped to a chair.

He was also positive Johnny was hiding something from Walt. His lack of eye contact, fidgeting, and less than clear answers raised his suspicions. Judging from Walt's frustrated sighs and growing impatience, he too suspected Johnny wasn't disclosing all the events either.

Parking in front of Johnny's house, he shut off the engine and glanced at Johnny who had made no move to exit the vehicle.

"Hello, earth to Johnny," he teased.

"Huh?"

"Were you just having another vision or something?" he worriedly asked. The last thing he needed was another vision.

"Or something." He made no move to elaborate.

Letting it go for now, Bruce got out and followed him up the steps to the front door. He couldn't miss the fact Johnny was limping heavily, and seemed to hold his breath with each step.

"You know, you don't have to follow me around. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Johnny said as he shrugged out of his jacket and slowly made his way into the kitchen, where he took a bottle of painkillers out of the cupboard.

'I can see that,' Bruce thought to himself. "Well, seeing as it's so late and all, I was thinking I might just stay here. I mean, it's not like you're short on space, right?" His joke fell flat.

Swallowing the painkillers, Johnny limped out of the kitchen, a mumbled, "Whatever," his only response.

If Bruce thought he was worried before, he was extra worried now. It wasn't like his friend to just give up like that. Waking up after a six year coma was proof enough of that. Surprised to see it was in fact almost three in the morning, he yawned and went to one of the guest rooms.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Something woke him up. Suppressing a shiver, he rolled over and tried to find a more comfortable position. Sleep's black tendrils were just starting to envelope him when he heard it again. Someone was talking. 'Maybe Johnny's watching TV,' he thought to himself. That answer satisfied his unease until his foggy mind reminded him the TV was _downstairs_. The sound was definitely coming from down the hall.

He sat up and listened intently. There it was again.

Throwing back the blanket, he followed the noise as it lead him down the hall until he was at the threshold of Johnny's room. He put his ear to the door and even though the voice was muffled by the door, it was definitely Johnny. Knocking did neither stop the talking nor elicit a response. Opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of Johnny restlessly tossing from side to side and muttering the same syllable over again. 'No'.

"Johnny? You all right, man?" He wasn't expecting a response, but tried anyway.

Johnny's brow was creased, and he was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration. "No. Please don't, I said no," he murmured.

"John? You're having a nightmare, wake up." Hesitantly, he reached out and touched John's shoulder. He was never sure how his touch would be received. There was no change. He applied more pressure and shook with more force. With John starting to thrash, he tried once again. "John, wake up!"

Johnny bolted up in bed, his head almost colliding with Bruce's, a strangled 'No' ripped from his throat. Breathing hard, his disoriented eyes met with Bruce's and he slowly calmed down. "Bruce? What's going on?"

"You were having a nightmare, John. Do you remember what it was about?"

His eyes looked inward as he thought about it, and his breathing slowed. A brief look of remembrance flitted across his face before being replaced by an emotionless mask. Bruce knew the moment that look set in John wasn't going to tell him anything.

Sunlight was just starting to stream in from behind the curtains, giving the room a comfortable warm feeling despite the lingering rush of adrenaline Bruce was still feeling. John almost always opened up to him. What was different this time?

"I think I'm gonna go shower. Help yourself to coffee or whatever in the kitchen."

"But, John! You've only been asleep three hours! You need..."

"A shower. I smell." He threw back the covers, and couldn't help the groan that escaped as he stiffly stood up.

"Are you all right? You don't look very good."

"Drop it," he tersely replied. "Either go get a cup of coffee or get out." With that, he stiffly limped into the bathroom and shut the door.

Bruce was shocked. John had never spoken to him like that, even in the heat of an argument or after an emotionally charged vision. Maybe he'd speak with Walt later and see if he knew what was bothering his friend.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The moment the bathroom door shut, John felt the anger drain from him, and remorse set in. How could he have spoken to Bruce like that? He was only trying to help. Yesterday's fiasco had taken more out of him than he was willing to admit. He'd seen, or as he considered it, done, horrible things in his visions. The first time 'he' killed, he'd almost run into the bushes to throw up his lunch. It never got easier, but he learned to control his reactions to it. How many murders had he seen?

With effort, he pulled his black sweater over his head and took in his appearance in the mirror. The tumble down the stairs had hurt more than he was willing to admit. Purple bruises marred his shoulders and arms, and his wrists were also bruised from his struggling against the tape securing him to the chair.

His legs hadn't fared much better. His knees and the outside of his hip were bruised as they had taken the brunt of the impact. He had stiffened up over night and the adrenaline had worn off hours ago. It was a minor miracle he could still walk.

Turning the water on as hot as he could stand it, he scrubbed vigorously with the soap, trying to wash off the lingering odour of Penny's perfume. Her touch lingered at the front of his mind; her voice whispered to him. He could feel her rubbing against him, and then the knife as it got closer and closer to...

"No!" With a shout, he dropped the soap and snapped his eyes open, not even sure when exactly he had shut them. No wonder he couldn't sleep. He was practically reliving the event awake.

Snagging the nearest towel, he scrubbed until his skin was red and raw, making sure to get every trace of Penny off.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bruce heard the water shut off while he worked at throwing together a simple breakfast. It was obvious Johnny hadn't been for groceries in a while, so he settled on toast and peanut butter. The shrill, sudden ring of the phone interrupted his preparations. He knew John was probably still in the bathroom, so he grabbed the handheld off the counter. "Hello?"

"Bruce? What are you doing there so early?" It was the Sheriff.

He lowered his voice. "I wanted to keep an eye on John. Make sure he was all right after yesterday. Why are you calling so early?"

"Roscoe was reviewing one of the tapes we recovered from the kidnapper's cameras and found something I need to ask John about. Is he around?"

"Sure," Bruce replied quietly. "Hold on." He knew John had been hiding something, but he didn't feel any better now that his suspicions had been confirmed. "John!" he yelled. No response. Walking out of the kitchen, he called his friend's name again only to walk right into him as he rounded the corner, effectively yelling in his ear.

"I'm psychic, not deaf," he grumbled.

Bruce held the phone out to him. "It's Walt."

"I know." He almost sounded bored. As he limped into the kitchen, Bruce trailed behind catching only one side of the conversation. "He found what? Oh. I don't think it's necessary... But I don't even... Fine."

"What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing really. Walt has a few more questions. You know, just some follow up stuff," Johnny lied, badly.

"He needs to do it now?" Bruce asked incredulously. "The early birds and worms aren't even up yet!"

"You don't need to come then. It's no big deal." He already had his coat on.

"Actually, I do need to come. How do you think you're going to get there? Your Jeep is still at the police station."

"Taxi."

Bruce gave a short laugh. "Like _you_ would ever set foot in a cab."

Johnny paused as he realized the truth in that statement. "Right. Let's go then."

Bruce followed Johnny out, making sure the door was securely locked before heading down the steps to the car. He pretended not to notice Johnny's heavy limp, his mood swings, or the fact he hadn't bothered with any breakfast. Any comment about either of those things would surely cause his anger to flare again.

"So, I heard Sarah invited you for dinner on Saturday," Bruce stated, trying to engage John in small talk.

"Yep."

"Well, do you think you'll go?" Bruce asked when it was clear John wasn't going to elaborate.

"Nope." His gaze remained fixed on some point past the passenger window.

"Any particular reason why?"

"What are you, my damn keeper? Just leave it alone!" Johnny's body language signaled the conversation was over.

Bruce was taken aback. "Who pissed in your corn flakes, man?" That was twice his friend had lost his temper for no apparent reason. It wasn't anything new to him, he was frequently on the receiving end of his patient's frustrations. The trick was to remember it wasn't personal, and to encourage open communication. He was going to find out what was going on with John before the situation spun out of control.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Stephen King and Lions Gate Films. I am making no money from this.

**Sight Within **

**Part 2**

by Megan

From his vantage point behind his desk, Walt sat grim-faced and watched the endless parade of weary people trudge though the precinct. Police stations were a good place to people watch. Over the years, he'd become quite proficient at it, so when Johnny and Bruce came in, he knew instantly something wasn't right between them.

Bruce entered first, his face grim yet concerned. His eyes searched the room, probably making sure Dana Bright wasn't around to pester him or Johnny. Walt was sure Bruce hadn't slept a wink since leaving the station only hours earlier, but it looked like he hadn't slept in longer than that.

Johnny followed, an equally grim look on his face mixed with a hint of something else. Fear? Apprehension? His movements were stiff and slow, the small muscles around his eyes tensing with each step. He made sure to keep well out of arms reach of Bruce. Sure, John didn't like people touching him, but he always walked right next to Bruce; even occasionally brushing against him.

"Mornin', guys," he greeted from the door to his office. "Why don't you come on in and have a seat."

Bruce made a move to enter the office, but John was quick to intervene. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

Not sure how to respond to that, Bruce was saved the trouble when John spoke again. "This is private. Between Walt and I. Just hang out here or something," he said condescendingly.

Walt saw the hurt flash across Bruce's face.

"Since when do you care about whether I know about your private business or not? It's never been an issue before."

"I've started caring since-"

Judging by the rising voices, Walt knew this could get out of hand fast. "Hey, calm down you two! John, go sit down. Bruce, we'll be a few minutes. Go help yourself to the coffee."

Shaking his head, Bruce slowly turned and with one last confused glance at John, left them alone.

Once they were both seated, Walt decided to get right down to it. It was obvious the younger man was troubled, and he doubted Johnny's mood was going to tolerate beating around the bush. "Why didn't you tell me," he stated flat out.

"It was no one's business." He held the head of his cane with both hands, and stared at a spot in the air somewhere between Walt and himself.

"It's police business, John. You should have told me."

"Why? What possible difference would it have made except to humiliate me?" He'd done a good job of keeping his voice level until now. The stress he was feeling was starting to show through in his voice.

"John, it is no one's intent to humiliate you. You were the victim of a horrible crime, and bore witness to something no one should. Didn't you think we'd eventually find out? She taped the whole thing!"

John looked down. "I didn't think she had recorded that particular part. At least I hoped she hadn't," he whispered.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?" He stared intently at the younger man, waiting for him to look up and make eye contact. He did, but it was brief. Too brief.

"Nothing."

Walt sighed and walked around the desk to the door, opening it slowly. John followed suit. "Talk to Bruce, John. He can help." The Sheriff unconsciously reached out and gave the other man's shoulder a squeeze, unprepared for the sudden flinch and flash of pain which was gone as quickly as it appeared. John saw the questioning look on his face and answered his question before it was even asked.

"I'm fine. Just stiff from being taped to a chair for so long." He gave a weak smile, trying to put Walt at ease.

"Sounds kinky. Why wasn't I invited?"

"Oh, god," Walt muttered under his breath. She'd obviously been waiting at the door. "What the hell are you doing here, Dana? No one's in the mood for you right now."

"Ouch," she playfully drawled. "I just came by to see if my dear friend John would like to grab a coffee and..."

"Have me tell you all about yesterday so you can glorify it, publish it, then bask in the admiration of all the other reporters because you've kissed up to Johnny Smith? Forget about it."

His biting words struck deep, as she knew they were closer to the truth than she'd like to admit.

Bruce, alerted to Johnny's exit from the Sheriff's office by the loud voices hurried over, coffee still in hand. He felt rather than saw the tension and knew Johnny's foul mood had claimed another victim.

"Why don't you take Johnny home, Bruce. The best thing right now is rest. For the both of you."

"Yeah, like rest will make this all better," Johnny said low enough that only Bruce could hear him.

"Come on, John." Bruce glanced at Walt over John's shoulder, conveying in a look that he'd take care of his friend. "Let's get you home."

Without a word, Johnny turned and shuffled from the station, Bruce trailing behind.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Johnny's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. All unpleasant. First he would hear Penny's voice. Then it would be her friends. Then the horrible screams of the Connor family as they were brutally slaughtered by a boy not old enough to know what acne was. Then the voices would change. Instead of hearing what was actually said, the voices would taunt him. Tell him he wouldn't be rescued in time because Walt had called off the search, not caring enough to waste the man power. He could hear Penny telling him Bruce had more important things to do than look all over for him. Rationally, he knew none of that had happened. Of course Walt, and Bruce, and even Dana and Sarah had been looking for him. Why couldn't he make himself believe that? Then he'd feel even more horrible because he seemed to be unable to stop himself from taking out his frustrations on anyone other than his closest friends. He wouldn't be surprised if they abandoned him now.

Closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the passenger window of Bruce's car, John tried to not let his thoughts drift. Instead, focusing on the feel of the car's suspension on the country road. The vibrations in the glass; hushed tones of the radio. Anything but what had happened.

Without opening his eyes, he knew Bruce had pulled up in front of his house by the feel of the driveway. He knew the location and feel of every hole and bump. Reaching for the door handle, Bruce's voice stopped him.

"I have to get to the hospital, but I'll drop by later and we can pick up your Jeep. You gonna be all right?"

"Yep." Johnny got out of the vehicle and did his best to suppress his heavy limp. He could feel Bruce's worried eyes boring into his back, and didn't want to give him any cause to worry further.

Sighing, he entered his kitchen and reached for the cupboard containing the painkillers. Dry swallowing two, he considered watching TV to clear his mind, until that reminded him of that damned video camera the girls were hauling around with them. Deciding that putting on the radio and lying on the couch would be a better option, he settled into the plump cushions and was asleep before the first song ended.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_"I feel close to you."_

_"I won't let them lock you up." _

_"We'll be together. You and me." _

_He tried to trick her with the empty promises. Get her to help him escape from the dreadful farmhouse. He never in a million years thought she'd actually believe him, or pretend to believe him. She settled onto his lap, covering his mouth with her own, forcefully pressing her tongue against his teeth._

_"You've locked your lips, I can't get my tongue in." All he could feel was her weight in his lap, her moist breath whispering across his face and neck, her hands touching him. Her dilated pupils looked at him like a piece of meat waiting to be devoured. And then her mouth was on his again._

_He sighed in relief when she stood up and walked across the room, but felt dread in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, seductively, she started to take her clothes off, and babbled about ovulation and babies. Again, she was on his lap sucking on his neck. A vision of a very pregnant Penny rocked him, taking his breath away._

_"Penny, we can't do this." He tried to undo his mistake. He couldn't let her continue to believe he actually cared for her. He hadn't meant for it to progress this far._

_"Oh, yes we can." She removed herself from his lap, and retrieved something shiny. "If it's a boy, we'll name him Johnny. If it's a girl, we'll still name her Johnny." _

_He could only watch, helpless, as the knife cut through the tape. It was only inches from cutting into him. Exposing him._

_"Penny, not here. Not like this." He was close to begging. _

_"Yes, exactly like this."_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He knew what was coming. Not bothering to grab his cane, he was off the couch and stumbling to the bathroom as fast as his shaking legs would carry him. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet just as his rebellious stomach heaved it's meager contents. Eyes tearing as the

straining pulled his already painful muscles, he moaned as he felt the spasming slow, then stop.

He should have known better than to take the pills on an empty stomach. Now, he was really paying for it. What was more, the pills hadn't been in long enough to absorb and give him any real relief. He'd only been asleep for half an hour.

He spit one final time into the bowl before grabbing the sink and pulling himself to his feet and gasping as his hip spasmed. Vision swimming, he realized the pain had never been quite so intense. Maybe there was something really wrong.

Hands shaking, he splashed some cold water onto his face in an attempt to make himself feel more human and then slowly returned to the couch. Not feeling like trying to sleep, he grabbed a book off the end table and settled in to read for a while.

It must have been mid-afternoon when the shrill ring of the phone shattered his concentration. Not even bothering to drag himself off the couch, he listened for the answering machine to pick up.

"Hey John, it's Bruce. I guess you're occupied at the moment. I get off at five today, and was thinking I might drop by with chinese or somethin'. Anyways, gotta get back. See-ya then."

Great. That was just what he needed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Come on, man, where are you?" Bruce mumbled to himself. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, impatience clearly showing. He felt like he'd been waiting for Johnny to answer the door for an hour when it had actually only been a few minutes. "Food's gonna get cold, John! Cold pizza I don't mind, but cold Chinese is just wrong!"

Finally, the door creaked open to reveal a very drained looking Johnny.

"Wow, my grandma looked more alive at her funeral than you do now."

"You came here to insult me?"

"Man, you need to lighten up," Bruce said as he breezed past Johnny and headed for the kitchen.

John came and stood in the kitchen entryway, feigning interest.

"Don't worry about helping set the table or anything," Bruce hinted with a sarcasm-laced voice.

"I didn't invite you here."

"You didn't call and tell me not to come, either. Lets just have dinner, and if you still want me to leave after, I will. All right?"

"Sure," John replied with a shrug. Couldn't hurt. It would make Bruce happy, hopefully worry about him less, and then he'd have the night to himself. He hobbled to the table and took a seat while Bruce carried over the plates and utensils and plopped into the other chair. As John reached for a plate, his hand brushed the carton of rice, knocking it from it's precarious position at the edge of the table. Bruce reacted quickly and made a grab at the same time Johnny did, misjudged, and grabbed John's wrist instead.

The reaction was instant. For a second, John was dead still, eyes wide and staring into space. This was immediately followed by a terrified, "Don't touch me!" as he yanked his arm back and stood up so suddenly his chair tipped over.

The silence hung thick in the air as Bruce and John took in the situation. Bruce had seen this type of reaction before, in two different contexts, and felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"John," he stated quietly, holding his hands out in a placating manner.

"I'm all right," he breathed, face pale. "I think it would be best if you left now."

He limped the two steps over to where his cane had fallen to the floor, and bent to retrieve it. A sharp pain shot from his hip to his lower back, almost dropping him to the floor. He couldn't suppress the gasp that shot from his throat. He felt rather than saw Bruce move forward to help. "Don't! It's fine. I'm fine." With painful slowness, he grabbed his cane and straightened up.

"No, John. You are not 'fine'. Have you taken a look in the mirror! You look like you haven't slept in months, you're not eating, you can barely move, and now you're afraid of me! Not to mention the irritability. My god, John. You're more unstable than a postal worker with a semiautomatic!"

John didn't say anything and limped heavily to the cupboard for the pain killers, not caring that Bruce was standing right there.

"What happened between you and Penny, John?"

"Nothing, okay? Not one damn thing! You know where the door is."

Defeat weighed heavily upon Bruce's shoulders as he watched someone he considered a best friend give him the heave ho for the second time, and head up to his room. Johnny was hurting, and he was damned if he was going to let it ruin their friendship. There was one other person who might know what was really going on.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Come on, mom. Just one more piece of chicken?" JJ pleaded.

"No, JJ. Eat your broccoli first, then -" The loud knocking on the front door interrupted the mundane family conversation. Sara flashed Walt a look of annoyance, Walt flashed Sara a look of resignation.

Some days he really wished his job wouldn't follow him home so he could enjoy something as simple as a quiet dinner with his family. Deciding it had to be either John with another vision, or Roscoe with a really important case, he slid back his chair and made his way to the door.

He opened the door to reveal Bruce, looking quite upset about something.

"Bruce." He couldn't quite hide his surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk with you about something."

"Walt? Who's at the door?" Sara called from the kitchen.

"It's all right, honey, it's just Bruce."

For a second, Bruce looked unsure of himself. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Oh no, just dinner."

Bruce caught the hidden message in the tone and had the good grace to look embarrassed for half a second. Working shifts at the hospital tended to make you forget other people still ate at regular meal times. "It's important. It's about John."

Walt sighed and signaled Bruce to enter, taking him to the kitchen. "Have you eaten yet? I'm sure Sara could put a plate together for you."

"No, thanks. If you don't mind, I'd like to speak with you in private. Hi Sara, JJ."

"Hey." Sara's worried eyes bore into his, seeking the answers he wasn't about to give her.

Walt took him into the living room and took a seat on the couch. Bruce did like wise.

"What did you and John talk about in your office this morning?" Bruce got right to the point.

"Excuse me?"

"John hasn't been himself since we found him in New Hampshire, and he was worse after talking with you this morning. He won't open up to me. I was hoping you would be able to tell me."

"Bruce, you know as well as I do the importance of confidentiality. Whatever I talked about with John, I can't discuss with you. John has only been back a little over a day. Give him some time to get over what happened." Walt had seen people experience far less than John and walk away with worse emotional scars. He had thought John was doing pretty good, considering.

"Time isn't the problem. He's been through a lot since his coma, seen things no one should have to see, and has never behaved like this. He might withdraw from his friends for a while, but he has never been all over the map! You heard what he said to Dana today."

"Maybe there's only so much one guy can handle. And about Dana, he was voicing what we all feel about her from time to time."

"You think he's hit his breaking point? If that's what you're suggesting, you don't sound too concerned."

The older man groaned. He was concerned about Johnny. The encounter in his office had left him uneasy, but he wasn't able to express that. Maybe a lifetime of dealing with people in crisis had left him numb to it. He hoped that wasn't the case. "When John is ready to talk, be there for him. That's all I can say."

"Easier said than done. At dinner tonight, I accidentally touched him. And no word of a lie, he looked terrified of me! It was like he thought I was going to hurt him, and started yelling at me to not touch him. I've seen that reaction before and I can't ignore what it means." He watched Walt's face closely for a reaction.

"So John doesn't like to be touched. Maybe he's tired of all the visions." Walt hoped his answer covered the unease he was starting to feel. Bruce was too smart to not figure it out eventually.

"No, Walt. Penny raped him didn't she." It was a statement, not a question. Walt hesitated before answering. It was all Bruce needed. "Oh my god, she did, didn't she."

"Bruce, please speak with John about this." He stood, implying the conversation was over. "He's the only one that can tell you what really happened."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

John stood in his bedroom, not sure what to do with himself. It was still early in the evening and he wasn't too anxious to get to bed so soon. Especially considering the horrible visions and dreams he'd been having. The scene with Bruce at dinner played over and over in his mind. Not only what had actually happened, but what he had seen in the damn vision that had popped into his mind when Bruce touched him.

It wasn't that Bruce had never caused a vision. He had on many times, good and bad. Everyone had their secrets. What bothered John was the abstract content of the vision, and the fact that what he had seen had never happened and would never happen. What had gotten to him was the sheer realism of it. Every time he relived the events at the farm house, they became more realistic, but more surreal at the same time.

His stomach started to churn again, reminding him he'd been foolish enough to take the pain killers on an empty stomach. Deciding throwing up again would be worse than struggling down the steps to the kitchen, he went downstairs for a glass of milk, not quite feeling ready for food. The pain in his hip was only increasing as time went by. The bruising was darker, and the tissue was swollen. He really hoped it wasn't serious. The last thing he needed in his life was more trouble.

An hour later, the pills were starting to take effect and he could feel his eyes starting to droop as his thought processes slow down. Curling up on his good side on his bed, John let his eyes drift closed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_"You've locked your lips, I can't get my tongue in." _

_The now all too familiar scene played again in front of his eyes, and he was helpless to stop it. His hyper sensitive skin burned where Penny touched him, her saliva tasting bitter in his mouth._

_When she stood up and started taking her clothes off, he changed tactics, hoping to change the outcome of the scenario. "I was lying to you, Penny. I don't like you, and I don't want this." She returned and took a seat on his lap, not even phased by his forward words. "I'm warning you, Penny. If you don't back off, I'll..."_

_"You'll what?" she playfully drawled. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement. She stood and turned away from him, reaching for the knife. When she turned back, he watched in horror as her pale skin darkened and blond curls turned into black dread locks. "If it's a boy, we'll name him Johnny. If it's a girl, we'll still name her Johnny." It was still Penny's voice, but Bruce's body. His head started to spin. The knife started to cut through the tape._

_"Penny, don't do this!"_

_"Penny, is that who you think I am?" With each word the voice deepened until only Bruce's voice could be heard. He grinned, exposing shiny white teeth, and expressing more malice than playfulness now. Bruce's overly bright eyes moved from John's face down to his lap, and used the knife to cut straight through his clothes._

_He looked past Bruce and was caught staring straight into his own eyes as he looked at himself holding the camera, smiling viciously. A scream tore from his throat._

_o-o-o-o-o-o-o_

He sat bolt upright in bed, screaming his throat hoarse. At the same time, a jolt of pain ripped from his hip up into his back, choking off his scream and turning it into a sob of agony. He doubled over and ground his teeth, fighting off the tears threatening to overcome him. He'd never experienced anything like that. He wanted to call Bruce and started to reach for the phone, but the feeling of that knife over his groin assailed him and he recoiled, instead punching the mattress. The fear was irrational, he knew that. Bruce would never hurt him, but each time he imagined Bruce, all he could see was Bruce attempting to rape him. At least the dream had never gone far enough to depict the actual rape, but it didn't have to. The damage had been done.

Maybe he could call Walt. A glance at the clock quickly killed that idea. There was no way he'd call him at home at three in the morning. The man had had as little sleep as he and Bruce. In fact, less since he was left dealing with the whole kidnapping mess after it had ended for him. He had waited this long already. What was a few more hours?

Deciding TV and a few more pain pills were in order, he made the painful journey down the stairs once again. This time, his sluggish mind misjudged the distance on the steps, and on the fourth step from the bottom, he lost his footing and tumbled the rest of the way down.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

TBC


	3. Conclusion

**Sight Within**

**Conclusion**

by Megan

Praying John was awake, Bruce pounded on the front door. He couldn't sleep after his discussion with Walt, and after watching TV for a few hours at home, started to feel genuine fear gnawing at his gut. He couldn't place what exactly was causing the feeling, but knew it had to do with John Smith.

"John! Open up! I need to speak with you!" he yelled, not caring if he woke the neighbours. "John!"

"Bruce?"

Pausing, he pressed his ear to the door, not certain he'd actually heard something.

"Bruce!" came the muffled but definitely louder voice from inside.

"John? Come let me in, I need to speak with you."

"There's a key...under the planter on the... right."

Was it him or was the voice slightly breathless?

"What about that security system that was just installed?" he called even as he was turning the key in the lock.

"I haven't activated... it yet."

Rushing in, he paused briefly as he saw Johnny sitting at the bottom of the stairs, his back to the bannister. His right leg was bent up at the knee, but his left was stretched out in front of him and his hand was pressed to his side. The pale skin of his face only highlighted the dark smudges under his eyes, and there was a pale sheen of perspiration glistening in the ambient lighting.

"Oh my god, John. What happened?" he asked worriedly as he rushed over and knelt beside him, making it a point not to touch him no matter how hard it was.

"I had a bit of an accident."

"I can see that." Noticing the slightly glazed look in John's normally bright eyes, Bruce made a decision. "'I'm calling you an ambulance."

The reaction was instant.

"No!" At Bruce's shocked face, he stated more calmly, "The last thing I need is an ambulance. Please."

The quiet desperation in his voice spoke volumes.

"You need to go to the hospital, John. You could have a concussion, a broken bone, a muscle tear..." he trailed off.

"I'm fine, Bruce. I just need to get some rest."

Bruce gaped at him. "Then why are you just sitting here? How long have you been sitting here?"

John looked at the floor.

"Jesus Christ, John! You can't get up, can you? You're going to sit there and tell me you're okay when an eighty year old would be more mobile than you at the moment? What the hell is the matter with you?"

"I just don't-"

"Don't what? Want me to touch you? You're going to the hospital, John. Either I call you an ambulance and you let the EMT's manhandle you there, or you let me. It's up to you."

Closing his eyes, John took a shuddering breath to try and slow down his galloping heart. This was Bruce. He'd given him instructions on how to get into the house because on some level he trusted Bruce to help him, not hurt him. If he couldn't trust Bruce to help, then he was on his own.

"John," Bruce calmly stated. "I know what happened to you."

"What? No. I never told you and Walt never would have."

"No one had to tell me, John. I read the signs. The only question now is, do you trust me?"

So, it had all come down to this. Could he get past the visions and allow his best friend to touch him? Help take the pain away? Or did he let his fear reign and quite possibly lose Bruce forever? _Come on, John. You can do this. Bruce is your friend. Bruce would never hurt you, _John told himself. Suddenly, another louder and more insistent voice over ruled his common sense voice. _Wrong! He's using you, John. He only wants to be your friend because you're famous. Your visions are showing you he and Penny are one and the same!_

Bruce saw the emotions flashing across John's face. Confusion, hurt, fear, and finally, acceptance. What felt like hours but was actually only moments later, John's posture visibly slumped. Whether it was defeat, or John finally relaxing in his presence, Bruce did not know.

Slowly, a shaking hand was stretched out towards him. Making eye contact, Bruce saw only one thing in those eyes. Trust.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The drive to the hospital was something Bruce never wanted to experience again. In order to get John to the car, Bruce had had to support more than half of John's weight because he couldn't put any pressure on his leg without collapsing in agony. It was like reliving John's recovery from the coma all over again. Not only that, but every bump in the road had his friend gasping.

"Please tell me it hasn't been this bad the whole time, John," Bruce pleaded. He refused to believe he'd allowed his friend to suffer for so long.

"No," John ground out through clenched teeth. "It just got worse since I fell."

"We're almost there," Bruce replied, trying to comfort his friend and himself.

Now, hours later, Bruce sat beside John's hospital bed and waited for him to wake up. An x-ray had revealed a hair line hip fracture. Whether the fall at John's house had caused it, or exacerbated an already existing fracture from the fall at the Connor farm, no one could tell.

An IV dripped much needed fluids into John's forearm. Bruce had been aware John hadn't been eating and drinking as much as he should have been, but had not expected his friend to be so dehydrated. He also couldn't remember if John had eaten anything since the kidnapping, and lord only knew when he had eaten before it.

A small groan from the bed's occupant drew his attention.

"John?" he asked quietly, inching closer.

John's blue eyes slowly opened and stared into his brown ones, searching for answers.

"Hey, welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" John croaked out.

"You're at the hospital. Do you remember what happened, John?"

There was a moment of silence before he answered. "Yeah. How could I have forgotten that?"

"Don't worry. You're on some pretty heavy pain killers. Did you know you had a hip fracture?"

"No kidding?"

Bruce couldn't help but notice the superficial quality to his friend's voice. Obviously, he remembered everything that had happened. Deciding the pain killers might have loosened John up a bit, he pressed on and tried to continue the conversation from the house.

"John... about what happened to you."

John made direct eye contact with him as he answered. "It's all right, Bruce."

Bruce waited, but no further explanation was forth coming. "All right? That's it? Days of wondering whether or not our friendship was going down the crapper and that's all you have to say? John, give me something to work with here."

"Bruce..."

"No. I deserve more of an explanation than that!"

John closed his eyes. Bruce was right. He'd treated him horribly and should have known Bruce would want more of an explanation. Trying to put the experience into words would be tricky, though. He started explaining, trying to not give away more than the basic details. Bruce didn't need to know everything.

"At the farmhouse, Penny's advances sparked a disturbing vision. At the time, I didn't dwell much on it. There was so much going on I didn't have the time to worry about a far off future."

"Did she actually..." Bruce trailed off, not needing or wanting to finish that unpleasant thought.

"Not physically, no. But in the vision, she had succeeded because she was, well, pregnant. I'm not sure what happened, but the night you and Walt found me, I started having these... nightmares. About Penny." As an afterthought, John added, "And about you."

Bruce was silent for a moment. "Me?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"Instead of Penny doing those things to me... it was you."

Horrified, Bruce slumped back in his chair, staring into space. It all was starting to make sense. John's fear of being touched lest it spark another disturbing vision, and especially his fear of _him_.

"John, you do know I'd never hurt you, right? I mean, god John! Why didn't you say something? You were on the verge of a physical and emotional collapse by the time I found you this morning!" Bruce shuddered as he said this, remembering how Johnny's eyes had slowly started to glaze over in the emergency room from the pain and exhaustion. "And if you didn't want to talk about Penny, you should have said you were hurt! Do you know how scared I was when I saw those bruises, John? I had no idea what had happened to you!"

"I know, Bruce. But the dreams were so _real_. I couldn't tell if they were just dreams, or if I was actually having a vision."

"Dreams, visions, they're not meant to be taken literally. If anyone should know that, it would be you. The days events, subconscious thoughts and feelings, they're all combined into a series of images as the brain processes their meaning. It's up to you to figure out what that meaning is." Seeing he had John's attention, he continued. "It's possible your encounter with Penny brought to the surface feelings you haven't given yourself a chance to deal with."

"I do trust you, Bruce," John sincerely stated. "If it wasn't for your support, I'm not sure I would have learned to walk again. And I'm not just talking about that. You've never treated me like a freak or tried to take advantage of me." His eyes widened as his mind made the connection between that statement and his dreams.

"You mean like Penny and her friends tried to." Bruce obviously had seen the same connection. "Maybe you're afraid that one day I might try to take advantage of you too."

John was silent for a moment as he thought about it. As his closest friend, Bruce could seriously hurt him. Sure, Bruce joked about things like lottery numbers, but he had never tried anything like the three women had earlier.

"Nah, you wouldn't do that," John started, starting to smile. "Anyways, if you did, I'd know before you would."

Bruce's hearty laugh filled the hospital room.

"Say, is Sara's dinner invitation still standing?" John asked with a grin. "I've been told I need to eat more."

"Man, you're hopeless," Bruce laughed, and went to phone Sara to let her know everything was all right. It would take time, but Bruce suspected the previous days events would only strengthen the bond between him and John.

**The End**

**March 2006**

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Well, if you made it this far, congratulations! I hope you enjoyed the story._


End file.
